My Firefly
by Creedog VanDrey
Summary: Based off the theory that Elle might be the mother of Noah Gray, an exploration of this seemingly unlikely relationship.
1. Madness In Love

My Firefly, Chapter 1  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Heroes  
_Genre: Romance  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summery: Based off the theory that Elle might be the mother of Noah Gray, an exploration of this seemingly unlikely relationship.  
Spoilers: "I Am Become Death"

A/N: I don't think of myself as a complete Sylar/Elle shipper. In fact, without a _lot_ of development, I think it's pretty preposterous, but nevertheless, once a fic gets in your head, it's hard to get out, so I figured why not?

: : :

Chapter 1: Madness in Love

"In other news today, President Petrelli addressed the nation about yesterday's explosion in Costa Verde, California which has left hundreds dead, including the President's brother, Gabriel Grey, and his young son, Noah…"

Peter teleported in on Gabriel watching the news in a deserted Redondo Beach café, drinking something that was not steaming out of a coffee mug.

Without even turning to face him, Gabriel commented, "Looks like I'm dead, Pete. You know, 'rapid cellular regeneration' hardly encompasses this. I can outlive a nuclear blast… from _inside of me_. It's your second ka-boom, right?"

"None of your powers are particularly well-suited to distance travel, so just started making circles around Costa Verde. Sign outside said they were serving waffles; it was a hunch. Gabriel, I don't have time for this. I'm trying to save the world here. I could use your help."

He slammed his fist on the counter, "Damn the world, Pete. My kid is dead."

"Peter?" came Elle's voice from the door.

Before Peter could react, he found Elle embracing him tightly.

Without turning away from the bar, Gabriel commented, "That's the wrong Peter, Babe. He's from four years ago."

Elle pulled away quickly with a mumbled, "Your scar…" before running toward Gabriel, standing behind him, holding his arm as stared up at Peter, who noticed the twinkling of a diamond ring on her left hand and the glint on the ring finger of her other.

"Wait," he said incomplete disbelief, "You two are… and Noah…?"

"Was mine?" Elle finished, and added with disapproval at his distaste, "Yeah."

"You don't seem sad."

Elle's face froze. Jumpily, she added, "Hasn't sunk in yet. And I'm still a little… cracked. But, oh, any second now…"

Peter stoically brushed it off, "I'm just confused about… how did _you two_…?"

"Get together despite the whole clinic insanity and murders of certain close family members…? It's a fun story.

"Wanna hear?"

: : :

A/N: So, I didn't think you all deserved the reason behind the title yet. Oh, well, it'll come.

"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." –Friedrich Nietzsche

Started 10/13/2008. Finished 10/19/2008.


	2. In That Very Moment

Title

My Firefly, Chapter 2  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Heroes  
_Genre: Romance  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summery: Elle returns for revenge. She gets something else instead.  
Spoilers: General for Volume 3

A/N: This chapter evolved from a character analysis I did of Sylar and his power.

: : :

Chapter 2: In That Very Moment

As the two maintenance workers finished painting the over the glass of the cell on Level 5, Noah Bennet and Sylar took off sunglasses, both blinking.

"So, Noah," Sylar quipped, "you have yet to congratulate me on not taking his brain."

Behind them, bright slivers of light escape from the cracks in the paint.

Noah shot back, "You think this is funny? You think that just because you've stopped killing people for a couple of months, it makes up for the way you violated my daughter?"

Sylar didn't get a chance to defend himself, as a female intruded in on the conversation, "Oh, Mr. Bennet, at least your little Claire's still alive." Elle strolled in, adding, "That's more than I can say for my dad." Large streams of electricity shot from her hands toward the pair.

Sylar swiftly placed himself in front of Noah, shoving his partner back and taking the full brunt of Elle's attack. "Get outta here, Noah!"

Bennet stubbornly pulled out his gun and aimed, only to have Elle charge it with her power.

Sylar repeated, "Get out! I can handle her!" A blast from Elle put him on the ground. Only partway healed, he leapt up and held her against a wall telekinetically.

Inside his head, the ticking began. There was a tingling in an uncharted part of his brain. It ached like an atrophied muscle. It knew of the electricity coursing through its neurons; it knew how to take that energy and amplify it and expel it out from the body.

But her groans drowned out the ticking. Up on the wall, Elle struggled ferociously against his telekinesis, her teeth clenched and her hair in disarray. She screeched and howled and shocked the unforgiving cement behind her with futile arcs of lightning.

"Shh, Firefly, my little lightning bug, it'll all be over soon."

The rage in her eyes turned to fear.

He raised two fingers. A small cut appeared on Elle's forehead and a small droplet of blood rolled down her cheek and began to fall to the ground. Sylar watched that droplet, able to sense every molecule. Liquids were fascinating to him: just enough electromagnetic charge between particles for them to adhere together without dispersing into the air, but not quite enough to allow them to hold a rigid form. He knew how the surface of the droplet would ripple as it came into contact with the air. He could predict the exact pattern it would create when it splattered against the cement. He knew how all the components of that blood would cause it to be more viscous than pure water. He could also feel all the cells in the blood breaking down as they were exposed to the unfamiliar environment outside her veins and arteries. Her blood was so much less resilient than Claire's.

_Claire_.

He paused for a moment, thinking of the cheerleader. It was Claire who survived the procedure. Claire, who talked to him throughout it. Claire, who cursed him while her body blessed his with this immortality. She let him borrow her power. She… _shared_ it with him.

And, once again, he had a young, petite, blonde woman before him, offering him an arousing new ability. Only she would die giving him. Because her blood is weak.

And she would not be sharing her power. He would be stealing it.

Startled, Sylar took a step back, dropping his hand, dropping Elle. The cut on her forehead was deep, but only a half an inch long, and barely scraping the skull. A fighter till the end, she sent a painful shock, which struck his thigh. It hurt like hell, but he healed within seconds.

After studying her for a moment, he began to taunt her, with intentional venom, "Is that all you got, Firefly? I _killed_ your father. For fun. To steal from him."

He stood up straight, only to be thrown backwards into the far wall by the next blast. He pulled himself up again, and floated himself toward her. Gripping her arms too tightly, pressing his body against her too closely, he whispered in her ear, "Is that all you got? I'm beginning to think you didn't even like the man."

He was rewarded with a shock powerful enough to light a city block for a week, but he maintained his grip on Elle, wrapping his arms tighter around her shoulders.

It was a religious experience. Sylar could feel his body waging war against the attack. The lightning seared his skin, but he could feel his flesh regenerating again and again. His hair was burning, but his scalp was unrelentless in producing more. Overheated organ tissue was repaired in heartbeats. His blood boiled, but his heart kept pumping, pushing oxygen into his veins, providing him with antibodies to fight the bacteria in the air. It pumped dutifully, resisting the conflicting electricity coursing through his body. His brain faced the same challenge, but knowing its need for survival, activated stem cells to replace the neurons that sacrificed themselves to channel the energy. Never had Sylar been so aware of his body or his body so aware of itself, able to efficiently replicate its pre-damaged state.

Sylar didn't know if it was five seconds or five hours before Elle finally collapsed from exhaustion and grief. His body welcomed the victory, flooding his blood with endorphins, as it completed its final repair job. He lost count of how many hundreds of times his body has just replaced itself, but he fought the nausea that resulted from the nutrient depletion that resulted from his body's superhuman effort to survive.

He knelt down and again wrapped his arms around Elle, only this time in a comforting hug. He whispered in her ear, "Whenever you need to get your anger out, you know where to find me. I can take it."

Rising up to check on Bennet, he turned around one last time to add, "And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

From the floor, Elle groaned with anger, but found herself too weak to lift her arm and give him another deserved shock.

Angela stopped him at the door. "Well, Gabriel, look what you caught." She peered down as the broken Elle, who was only able to roll enough to look up at the matronly woman through unfocused eyes. "Miss Bishop, I've had a change of heart. It seems that you're quite capable of holding your own. Perhaps we do have a place for you here." She strode over to the blonde woman and extended her hand, though not lowering herself. Elle swung her hand to catch Angela's and pulled herself up with some effort.

Angela briskly continued, "Well, young lady, we'll better get you cleaned up." Examining the bleeding cut on her forehead, "That'll need a stitch or two, but I think you'll be fine." Dazed, Elle leaned on Angela for support, who scarcely acknowledged her. "You did well, Gabriel, resisting your primal urges."

"I've already taken enough from her," he replied distantly.

Upbeat, she commented, "Well, that's good. I have a _feeling_…" She says the word with intentional weight, "…that Miss Bishop here is going to be much more important to us than I previously believed."

Gabriel didn't appear to be listening. He was studying Elle with intense scrutiny. Emotions ranging from guilt to admiration flashed across his face. He seemed preoccupied with everything about her: her blonde hair, her pixie-ish face, her lean and seemingly fragile body. His eyes followed the curves of her hips and bust, her arms and her shoulders. After watching her struggle to walk with the unforgiving Angela, he picked her up and carried her without a word, and received no word in comment from his mother. Finally able to relax, Elle passed out, her head drooping over his arm. He scooped up her hanging head and gently laid it against his shoulder. Pushing her frazzled hair out of her face, he stole one last peek at her still face before stoically following his mother out of the room.

: : :

A/N: So, there a few more chapters. It just depends on how I want to split up the rest of the timeline. This is probably my favorite chapter, though.

"In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him." –Orson Scott Card

Started 10/13/2008. Finished 10/20/2008.


	3. Hasn't Happened Yet

My Firefly, Chapter 3  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Heroes  
_Genre: Romance  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summery: Gabriel and Elle grow closer in the most unusual way.  
Spoilers: General for Volume 3.

A/N: This chapter turned out really montage-y.

: : :

Chapter 3: Hasn't Happened Yet

Gabriel would get a lot of use out of his healing ability during the next few months. A day did not go by that Elle didn't track him down to electrocute him. She might corner him in the hall and launch him into the nearest wall with the strength of her burst. Noah was of no help, politely standing aside while she tortured him for a few minutes each day. Gabriel suspected that Noah even alerted the woman to his whereabouts.

Even his cell was not a safe haven. Angela oddly had no qualms with giving Elle access to his private space. With increasing frequency, Elle would shove him into the wall or onto his cot so that she could shock in him from close range. She even began waking him up with an ominously sweet, "Morning, Sylar," and a soft hand on his neck, followed by an electrical burst so strong that he saw spots for hours afterwards.

And when he was, in her words, "naughty" during a mission, she got Angela to give her permission to punish him. Honestly, he hadn't fed on another evolved human in months, but his temper did get out of control every once in a while.

Nonetheless, Gabriel always smiled at her afterwards, often asking, "Feel better now?" or if he were in a particularly coy mood, "Was it good for you?" When the shocks started, she just scowled at his flippant remarks. But after a while smirks started to appear, and later sadistic grins, and finally what passed as friendly smiles.

He often asked, "Do you hate me?"

She always replied with a curt, "Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Your clothes smell like smoke. You should change."

He always held onto her when she used physical contact to electrocute him. She didn't appreciate the gesture, and showed her displeasure by biting him. Once, a bite became a kiss, and neither realized it until the ordeal was over and Gabriel noticed his tongue was numb.

She ordered him never to try it again. But it kept happening and she kept zapping his tongue. He never told her that he didn't have control of his muscles during the electrocutions.

"You still hate me?" he asked.

"Maybe a little less than yesterday. But I'm starting to hate me now."

"Why?"

"Because I should always hate you."

One night, when Elle came to see him, he congratulated her with "Happy Three Month Anniversary." It has gotten to point where Elle came merely for her own sadistic enjoyment, but his mouthing off got him electrocuted against every flat surface of his cell.

"Do you hate me?" he asked.

"I forgive you," she replied, a little surprised by her own answer.

That was the day the kissing didn't stop at kissing.

Given her life, Elle wasn't surprised she ended up losing her virginity on a Spartan twin bed in a cement jail cell with surveillance cameras. She guessed it was better that her father wasn't on the other end of the cameras, until she realized his mother was. That was the first time her sociopathic mind had allowed her to make a joke about her father's death.

Afterwards, she lay naked on top of him, burning her name into his bare chest, complaining that the curvy "E" would disappear before she even got finished with the flowery "B".

"Does _that_ happen every time?" he questioned.

After taking a moment to realize what he was referring to, she answered, "Yeah, it's gonna. Involuntary muscle spasms tend to set off other things."

"Thanks for the advance warning," he commented wryly.

"Hey, it's never been an issue. I'm 25 and have like never had a date. The only reason _I_ knew is 'cause a girl's gotta scratch her itches somehow."

"It's a good thing for you that I can heal. I'm not the best guy to be around when I'm in a bad mood."

"It's a good thing for _you_ that you can heal. Else you'd be a crispy critter and this would be a lot creepier than it already is."

: : :

RODONDO BEACH CAFÉ, 2012

"Could you _not_ elaborate on these types of details?" Peter asked, squirming.

Rolling her eyes, Elle continued, "Fine, fine. Moral of the story is…"

: : :

Gabriel kissed her again. She gave him a small zap when he backed away.

Rubbing his lips, he had to ask, "Every time?"

"No," she replied with mock guilt, "I can absolutely resist. It just hasn't happened yet."

A comfortable silence passed as Elle laid her head on his chest.

"Were you using telekinesis back there?"

"A little bit, yes."

: : :

A/N: In our next installment, Elle learns the unintended consequences of having a boyfriend who's immortal.

By the way, tell me if you think this is too risqué for a T rating. I can see this being filmed at a TV-14 rating.

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." –Mother Teresa

Started 10/13/2008. Finished 10/21/2008.


	4. Two Auras

My Firefly, Chapter 4  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Heroes  
_Genre: Romance  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summery: The whirlwind courtship of two slightly cracked eggs.  
Spoilers: General for Volume 3

A/N: Sorry about the wait. I'm thinking this is the penultimate chapter. But no worries, my brain, acting of its own accord, has begun writing the sequel. It gave spoilers of the reveal and I was floored.

: : :

Chapter 4: Two Auras

Elle skipped down the halls of Level 3 the next day. She was on warden duty, a punishment from Boss Lady Angela because of her poor performance on a bag-and-tag the week before. At every cell, she looked in to make sure a captive was still there. More often than not, some sort of supernatural attack struck the window: fireballs, sound blasts, and the like. She barely flinched at any of it, behind what she believed to be "everything-proof" glass. Quite a few lecherous comments struck the window, too.

Next on the roll was a man of some sixty years by the name of Andrew Waitr. He looked up at her and grinned vacantly, commenting, "You have two auras."

"That's great, Gramps," she replied, checking his chart and seeing that his ability was "aura absorption." She frowned at this, not quite able to pass off his comment to senility.

"What do you mean _two_ auras? Like two different types?"

"Oh, yes, a big one and a little bitty one."

"Oh, and what does the big one do?"

"Oh, it just sits around you, telling me if you're happy."

"And am I happy?"

"You're something like happy."

"And what does the little one do?"

"Oh, it just swims around in your lady parts."

She would have thrown the clipboard at his window, but as it was on a string attached to the door, it wasn't going to reach. But his words struck a strange chord in her brain, making her briefly wonder if he could perhaps predict what had occurred to her the night before before writing it off.

Halfway to the next cell, her brain still tingling, she stopped dead, muttering, "_Shit_."

: : :

Inside her father's office—now Angela's office, really—fortunately unoccupied, Elle browsed the bookshelves until she found the item she was seeking: an anatomy textbook. She flipped through the pages, filled with notes and doodles until she found the reproductive section. Between notes about ability inheritance in Angela's writing, she found the page she needed. Her short attention span was the reason she was looking up this information in the first place, and even now the long stream of words tested her patience. But the book confirmed her suspicions on how babies were made.

Too shy to just buy a pregnancy test, Elle roamed the halls in search a few particular people. She received confirmation from an inmate with x-ray vision, an agent which pheromone detection, and a touch telepath. She was in an indelicate situation.

It made sense that since Gabriel was indestructible, every part of him would be. Invader-attacking white blood cells and enough electricity to down an elephant were no match for his little swimmers, one of which that dutifully completed his mission.

She banged on the window of his cell. He studied her for a moment and gave her a strange, knowing smile.

"I'm pregnant."

"Yeah, I can see how that would work."

She launched a ball of electricity at the window. "Not funny."

He continued grinning. "My apologies, Elle, I wasn't prepared. Though, I don't think prophylactics and high-voltage electricity are a good combination. I can see some painful occurring. I guess you weren't taking any preventative measures either."

"Okay, you don't give hormonal treatments to a sociopath… _And so beside the point!_" She stormed off.

Gabriel continued waxing, "I mean these are extreme measures, but it's not like a vasectomy would stick. There's also tubal ligation, but where you gonna find a doctor crazy enough to root around inside you with metal instruments…"

: : :

"I got you something."

She was about to start her rounds on Level 5. As much as she would have liked to ignore him, she spun around. He was holding out a paper clip.

"You knocked me up, better have something better than that." She turned away and started towards her first inmate, but a hand stopped her.

He held out the stupid paper clip again. She tapped it and a spark struck it. He hand flinched but not his face. He floated it into the air, unbending it with his finger and rebending it into a circle about half and inch in diameter. He let it fall into his hand, where it promptly melted into a circle of silver goo. He lifted the liquid again and refroze it. It felt upon his palm once more, where the dull grey became brilliant gold.

Her face dropped in a mix of nervousness and fury.

"You're kidding me, right? I hate you."

"You don't hate me," he corrected immediately.

"I don't hate you," she confirmed, "why don't I hate you? Is it because I'm crazy?"

"You don't hate me because you're done with that type of grief. You burned through all your anger. And I'm not the man who killed your father anymore."

"I wish you would stop using your ability to figure out our relationship. It's not fair. Especially since I had my capability to comprehend interpersonal skills electrocuted out of me."

He wrapped his arms around her and she pressed her cheek into his shoulder.

"You obviously want me to say 'no,'" she related, "I mean there's no diamond."

He pulled away and pulled a diamond out of his pocket. He held it above the gold band, where it hovered as tiny threads of gold separated from the ring and wrapped around the gem.

"Happy?"

"Yes." She questioned him, "How did you buy the diamond? Use my dead father's power to turn a bunch of trash to gold?"

He said yes. For all his sins, he wasn't a liar.

She said yes.

: : :

They married at the courthouse the next month.

"Who would come to a wedding ceremony for _us_?" he had asked.

"Good point," she had agreed.

She wore a white dress even though she didn't have to.

"Call me a traditional girl. Plus, when's my tummy ever going to be this flat again?"

She sent him a shock when they kissed after the judge declared them husband and wife.

"Every time, Firefly?"

"No," she replied, "I can resist. Just hasn't happened yet."

Gabriel turned the first joint of his right ring finger to gold.

"That's kind of permanent, you know," she warned.

"Marriage is supposed to be."

"Do me," she replied, extending her hand. "I mean, the gold ring thing."

"I know you meant." A thin ring of gold appeared around her finger.

"Don't be so sure," she replied demurely.

Concerning the ring, she never regretted the decision, just her impulsiveness.

: : :

Noah Bennet flatly refused to allow the child to be named after him. Gabriel replied he didn't have a say in the matter. The man had helped save his soul and he was honoring that. Bennet refused to forgive Gabriel until his daughter did. And Claire never would. The release of the formula started a war between people with abilities. Claire became too busy dyeing her hair an unnatural shade of brown and wearing leather bustiers and pointing guns in a way that would make her daddy proud and generally just being a pawn of her grandfather.

Gabriel had no intention of getting in the middle of his parents' epic marital spat.

Noah and Sandra Bennet would later become victims of the war. Kind-hearted Sandra felt that three years was too long to hold a grudge and told Gabriel he could have the house as long as he promised to protect his young son. He swore he would take care of Mr. Muggles, who took right to little Noah, feeling the need to protect him from strange visitors.

Slowly he started refusing to use his powers. Of course, it got him fired.

"Protect your son, Gabriel," Angela had told him. It was a proclamation.

So, he stayed home with Noah while Elle became the breadwinner in the family, working tirelessly for the Company. She got no preferential treatment from her mother-in-law. If anything, her psychological need for approval reemerged.

The hunger never left him, but the less he used his powers, the better. That didn't stop him from using his cellular regeneration every time he got a paper cut or burned his finger. It was an automatic response to the sting. And the telekinesis was such a part of him that it was almost impossible to not mentally catch the lamp when Noah knocked it over or to grab an item just out of reach. And he could just as easily stop his mechanical intuition as he could stop breathing. When mantle clock fell of the ledge and a gear axle was bent, each delayed tick was like a punch in the stomach. And who can really deny fixing their two-year-old son's prized fire truck? He suspected Elle bought her son so many mechanical toys to annoy her husband.

He fought back cleverly, though. A super-bulk pack of rechargeable batteries and a few dozen batteries-not-included toys guaranteed that she'd never have five minutes alone without their energetic son coming in, handing her a couple of dead batteries and a plea to "hold them."

And truth be told, the hunger became easier to manage. With the formula out, everyone with enough cash on hand could receive the injection. For Gabriel, it was like being in an overcrowded buffet; too much selection caused him to lose his appetite. And he quickly lost the appetite especially for his wife's powers. Yes, he loved her very much, but he realized that he began to appreciate her abilities. As his body became accustomed to healing itself, his nerve endings became numb to pain, with the exception of his wife's shocks. There was no numbing the manual stimulation of his nerves. Taking her powers risked losing any sense of feeling, like he had done to Claire. He'd fix it if she'd just let him get within a hundred feet of her without trying put a bullet or two into the back of his head. He knew she was adopted but somehow she inherited her dad's trigger finger.

As of age three, young Noah displayed no abilities. He curiously survived being gestated in the equivalent of an industrial power generator. But he didn't inherit his father's or his cousin's healing. He still got boo-boos and the sniffles. It would have helped though. Gabriel lost count of the number of times he caught Noah creatively deactivating any childproofing: unlocking his stair gate or removing outlet covers.

He took his first steps at eleven months. He was of average height and weight, splitting the difference between his tiny mother and tall father. His hair was sandy blond and his eyes green. He didn't walk through his crib bars or jump on top of the counter in a single leap. When he threw blocks at the wall, the chipped the paint but didn't become embedded in the drywall. He didn't melt his sippy cups or freeze his apple juice. None of his nightmares or preschool art projects came true. He was just their little Noah.

: : :

He awoke, like many mornings, to the small zap on his nose. The clock told him it was 5:30.

"Elle, it's early. And it's Saturday."

"Gotta go to work."

"Tell Detskij I said 'Hi.'"

"Probably not. Bess hates you."

"I'm making waffles."

"Well, I'll have some when I get back. Go back to sleep." She leaned over, laying her hand on his bare chest, and gave him a peck and a spark on the lips.

"Every time, Firefly?"

"Not every time. I can resist. Just hasn't happened yet." She adjusted her pant suit once last time and added, "Enjoy your quiet morning with your son."

: : :

A/N: Yes, I know, it starts so happy and ends so ominous and sad. The ending of course is the _Heroes_ writers' fault, so don't get mad at me. If it were up to me, little Noah would take after his durable cousin or have some other "survive a flying table and nuclear explosion" ability. Seriously, who kills 3-year-old characters?

"In spite of the six thousand manuals on child-raising in the bookstores, child-raising is still a dark continent and no one really knows anything. You just need a lot of love and luck—and, of course, courage." –Bill Cosby, _Parenthood_ (1986)

Started 10/13/2008. Finished 10/26/2008.


	5. Rooting for Love

My Firefly, Chapter 5  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Heroes  
_Genre: Romance  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summery: Gabriel and Elle deal with the loss of their son.  
Spoilers: Up to 3x04, with some hints of 3x05.

A/N: This is the last chapter. It's more epilogue than anything else. I have really enjoyed delving into the psyches of Sylar and Elle, and how they went from enemies to lovers. I hope you will all stick around for the sequel. I promise it will be a lot less flowery montage and a bit more intrigue and mystery.

: : :

Chapter 5: Rooting for Love

The end of Elle's tale was punctuated by Gabriel launching his mug into the far corner of the restaurant, using his telekinesis. Neither Elle nor Peter commented on it.

There were two charred indentions below his fisted hands where he had radioactively burned into the wood bar.

Peter finally broke the silence. "That's quite a story. You really love each other, don't you?" he asked, the surprise in his voice audible.

Elle grinned. "Well, let's put it this way: I'm a clinical sociopath with sadistic tendencies who had a histrionic dependency of my father. And he killed my father. And I don't want to kill him. That's gotta be love. Or Stockholm Syndrome. But I'm really rooting for love." She held up two sets of crossed fingers. Peter noted the glint of her golden joint.

Then her hands started shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes stared past Peter and tears welled up. Her mouth moved, as if trying to speak, but no sound came out. Gabriel grabbed one of her hands and she all but collapsed onto his shoulder. "He's really gone," she whispered. Gabriel wrapped his arm around her and looked up to Peter.

"If I can fix this…" Peter began.

"Pete, the world's going to Hell. Get back to your own time. Doesn't make any sense for you to die here when the world is probably just as screwed up back then. Maybe you can do something."

Peter grimaced and jerked his head.

Gabriel recognized the tic immediately, "The hunger. I'm sorry for that. Try to resist the urges. It's possible."

Peter nodded. He noted, "You two work, don't you?"

Gabriel looked at the tear-streaked face of his wife and nodded. "Yeah, we work."

: : :

It was a cool evening for Costa Verde. At the Gray House, the front door opened without a sound. Small, light feet moved across the rug in an attempt at silence. Around the figure's small frame, the living room lamps began to glow dimly. From a small, feminine hand, arcs of electricity crackled.

Back in the living room, Elle sends an arc of electricity toward a lamp, effectively lighting it up. The suddenly brightness illuminated another man in the room, a tall man in his early 30s, with short jet black hair and black-rimmed glasses, holding an aluminum bat in an attacking pose. Elle was quick to send another arc to the bat.

"Elle!" Gabriel cursed under his breath, examining his burnt hands.

"Should have used wood," she replied, taking a casual pose and a flirty glance.

The redness of the skin on the palms of his hands faded.

"You're home late," he commented softly.

"I was on important business."

"You couldn't call?"

Seriously, she answered, "No, actually I couldn't."

Running into the room, young Noah screamed, "Mommy!"

Without missing a beat, Elle scooped up the toddler in her arms. A bright smile on her face, she apologized, "Hey, Sweetie, sorry I'm home so late."

Noah appeared completely unaware of the time. "Do it! Please, Mommy, do it!"

"Alright, alright," she calmed the child. Carrying him to the mirror, she cautioned, "Tell me if it hurts." She held one palm up, which was quickly met with his smaller hand. His eyes leapt to view his reflection in the mirror, as he watched his hair begin to stick straight up. A fit of giggles soon followed.

"Okay, Jitterbug, go to bed. I'll come by and read you a story." She barely had time to lay a kiss on his head as he scrambled out of her arms and back toward his room. His father is quick to jump out of his path, mussing his hair as he ran.

"Can I get a kiss, too?" Gabriel wondered aloud.

"Mm-hmm. Request approved." A short kiss on the lips ended with a small spark jumping from her mouth to his.

Rubbing his lips, he prompted, "Every time, Firefly?"

"No," she coyly remarked, with mock guilt, "I can absolutely resist. It just hasn't happened yet."

They kissed again, and he barely flinched at the spark.

: : :

A/N: I actually wrote that living room scene first. I thought it was going to go at the beginning till I realized how much more I liked it better at the end. In some ways it kind of softens the ending. On the other hand, it kind of makes it that much sadder. Little Noah saved his parents' souls. They're both still a little left of center (**syelle**, I loved your comment on their "rings". Yeah, they're still a little screwy and it's kind of the only way they work.) and now they've got grief compounded on that.

Anyway, I do have a sequel in the works. I really like this universe and I've discovered an entire new side to this story (among other stories) that I think need to be told.

"We never know the love of our parents for us till we have become parents." –Henry Ward Beecher

Started 10/13/2008. Finished 10/27/2008.


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